


As Always

by zsunsetz



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Music, honestly a ripoff of throam let's be real
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:00:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26714107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zsunsetz/pseuds/zsunsetz
Summary: Once upon a time, Phil Lester was the face of one of the most famous bands in the world. Now, he’s living in the underground, with theories circulating around the internet about his death and avid fans grasping at the small glimpses of his existence, leaving onlookers questioning. What happened? What did he do? Why has he chosen to remain silent? For one fan, these lingering questions aren’t good enough and he decides to show up at his house for a detailed biography to find out exactly what happened which made Project Red fall apart.
Relationships: Chris Kendall/PJ Liguori, Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	As Always

**Author's Note:**

> A massive thank you to @ilikestopwatches for continuing to beta and support this long overdue fic even during my own personal struggles! I hope you enjoy.

_ How does one give a foreword for a book written about arguably the most famous musical legend on the planet? How does one even begin to describe a man who's simply amazing, and where does one even start with a man who's lived a thousand lives? _

_ I was honoured to meet Mr Tyler Oakley, the author of this biography, very early on in the writing process of this novel. He was incredibly polite to me, and he was very careful about my personal privacy and certain touchy memories. In interviews, I would often forget I was being recorded and began to have regular conversations with Mr Oakley instead. Phil Lester is a complicated man in the best way possible, and I always thought it would be impossible to write a book which even began to properly describe his life. Mr Oakley may perhaps be the only author on this planet who has the patience, diplomacy and the determination to publish a book like this one. _

_ Perhaps most people know Phil Lester for his songs, but I have always known him for his fascinating personality. Being young and idiotic when I first met him, I wasn't starstruck like so many others. Since then I have grown to know him better, and I have also grown to be older and wiser, and I am now starstruck like everyone else. Phil is always quiet at first, but as you grow to know him you see sides of him you never would have thought Phil Lester would have had. As the years go on, I have found a clear distinction between both Phil and Phil Lester and, honestly, both are wonderful people. Most people know Phil Lester, but I am honoured to know Phil, and he is the weirdest and the most fantastic person you could ever meet. _

_ When I was told I was a title for a chapter in this biography, I felt many things. I was very happy, firstly, that I had been such a huge part of Phil's life, but I also felt very emotional. Both of us had been through a lot of hard times together, and both of us have made choices we continue to regret, but we still ended up together. Knowing Phil (and Phil Lester) has been a rollercoaster, but I am now happier than I have ever been. As I read through the book, and indeed my chapter, I will admit that I began to cry. Phil will always laugh at me for this, but I get very attached to books and movies, and I always feel the most from them. His life has had its ups and downs, and he has certainly had his share of downs, but I hope that he is in the better place which he says he is. _

_ I share a bed with the man himself, and this book still made me laugh, cry, get angry and disgusted. Looking at his life reminds me of the honour I have to know and love this man who loves me back. I hope you enjoy this novel, as wonderfully written by Mr Tyler Oakley, and I hope you grow and learn from his life like I have. _

_ Daniel Howell _

~ excerpt from  _ The Good, the Bad and the Dirty: A Biography of Phil Lester _ by Tyler Oakley

—

It was crazy to think that this was the face which so many young people idolised around the world.

It was easy to say fame wouldn’t get to his head as a naïve songwriter from some random town in Northern England but, ten years later, it was harder. Imagine looking in the mirror knowing that all sorts of people knew your face better than you ever would, knowing your face was forever immortalised in posters, photoshoots and paparazzi pictures. It changed you. When you were famous, you could get away with anything and everything and when you could do that, it was hard for fame to not get to your head.

He never understood mankind’s obsession with mirrors before becoming famous. There were all sorts of people, but every single one of them was a narcissist. Human beings always had some sort of suppressed narcissism. The only difference was that some people chose to admit it and others continuously denied it. Those people were bullshit. Phil might have suppressed 90% of his feelings, but he was man enough to admit that he was as conceited as webzines had always made him out to be.

It was strange to have this power. He could like one post on Instagram and his fans would go mad, trying to figure out if he was up to something. He wrote half his lyrics when he was high or drunk, and they continued to analyse it like it was gospel. Perhaps it was like gospel to them. He always pitied them, trying to make him out to be some sort of golden god. In reality, he was just a fucked-up human being who did random shit which made him famous.

Famous. Phil Lester was famous. And yet here he was, living day after day in an old country house where no one could ever find him.

His phone rang.

Well, almost no one.

"Phil? You good?” 

He sighed. "Yeah, Peej, I'm alright."

"Have you eaten today?” PJ asked.

"Yes." Lie.

"That's good." PJ knew that was a lie.

"How are you?” Phil asked.

"I'm good." Lie.

"That's good." Phil knew that was a lie.

They’d managed to reach a silent agreement of sorts, Phil and Peej, allowing the other to continuously make lies until it became a larger issue, and then acted concerned and shocked when the other person told the truth. It was quite amusing, the same cycle continuing to happen year after year for a decade. Some people might have called it bad communication, but Phil preferred the phrase ‘minding your own business’.

"Did you hear about the kid?” PJ asked.

Phil sighed. “There are several of these ‘kids’, PJ. You need to specify which kid you are talking about."

“The one who wanted to interview you for the novel about you he's been writing,” PJ stated, acting like it was basic knowledge. "Wanting to get all the juicy information for your fanbase, I think. Easy money. I'm pretty sure Louise is already on it."

"Good," Phil said quietly. One thing he never missed from being active in show business was the interviews. Plus, a novel about him? Terrible idea. He was a private person for a reason. He had a lot of secrets.

"Look, buddy, you should maybe put some thought into it. I read a few articles about him and he's not that bad."

"You just said he's doing it for easy money,” Phil pointed out.

"All I'm saying is you should think about it. Might put you back on the map again before you drop that thing you've been working on."

Ah yes. Phil had forgotten about the lie. To be fair, he did have multiple music projects, but most of them were too shitty or too personal to share with the public.

“I’ll think about it,” Phil lied, hanging the phone up.

Who was PJ kidding? He didn't need some random kid to put him back on the map, and PJ knew it. All of his fans, critics, and even other random people were waiting for new content to drop, trying to grasp for every piece of hope they could find before being met with bitter disappointment.

The phone rang again. Phil rolled his eyes. Must be PJ again, nagging him about some other shit he forgot half a second ago.

"Hello, is this Philip Michael Lester?" a young male voice asked, excitement bursting with his tone.

Phil's heart stopped. That was definitely not PJ.

"My name is Tyler Oakley. I was wondering if you were willing to be interviewed for the new biography I'm beginning to write?"

Phil opened his mouth, but his throat was too dry for him to speak. His heart was beating again, but it was at an abnormally fast rate, pounding out of his chest with every word this boy spoke.

"Anyway, if you were willing, you can call me back at this number. I-"

"You have the wrong number," Phil said, too quickly for anyone to recognise his voice, and he hung up before this Tyler could say anything back.

He remembered why he hated interviews.

  
  


"I told you Phil, I have no idea how he got your number!"

"Why don't you know? God, I thought you were supposed to be my manager."

"I was your manager when you were writing songs, Phil! Now I manage a bunch of actually active artists and bands, and I have no idea what to do with you. God, Phil, why do you have to be so hard to deal with?"

"Are all your  _ actually active  _ artists and bands’ numbers given out so they can be called? Only a few people have my current number, so how the  _ fuck  _ did he get it?” Phil snapped.

He knew Louise wouldn't know, but that didn't stop him from being irritated with her. She could go on all day about how annoyed she was, but she wasn't fooling anyone. No matter how many bands or artists she managed, she wasn't ever going to get a big break like him again, and he was the reason why so many of those young people flocked to her anyway.

"Woah there, everyone needs to calm down a bit. None of us know anything about this, so let's not turn on each other, okay?" PJ said calmly. 

"Do you know anything about it? Are you protecting Louise for a reason?" Phil demanded. PJ sighed. Most people would fight back, but PJ had dealt with his bullshit for the longest out of anyone and was getting tired after all those years.

"I know you're frustrated, Phil, but so are all of us. We are doing everything we can to figure out how this Tyler kid got your number, but we can't do it without your trust. Calm down a bit, okay?"

Phil breathed in and out slowly. He felt a bit bad for shouting at PJ. He knew him better than to accuse him of doing something sketchy. PJ was very direct and would definitely tell Phil if something was up.

"Okay. I'm sorry for shouting at the two of you," Phil said.

"It's fine. Okay, for starters, does Dan Howell have your number?” Louise asked.

Phil flinched. They didn’t say that name for a reason. The last time one of them said his name was two months ago, when PJ mentioned Dan’s new album or something. He didn't know. He didn't care. Half the songs were probably about him anyway; he didn't need to hear them.

"Does Chris?" PJ asked, almost hopefully. Goddamnit, Peej. Didn't he lose hope, like Phil did, a long time ago? Love truly made people wish for impossible things.

"Neither Dan Howell nor Chris Kendall has my number as far as I am aware," Phil snapped. Why did it matter, anyway? It wasn’t like they even acknowledged each other anymore. Well, except for Dan's cryptic words in his new songs, but that didn't count. He knew interviewers well enough to know they would ask about him, and he knew Dan well enough to always ask to skip those questions during interviews, and he almost always refused to even say his name anymore. 

"I only ask because Oakley worked with them quite closely on their most recent tour. Perhaps he managed to acquire your number from them somehow."

"Yes, you know how Dan gets when he's drunk," PJ said, agreeing.

No. He did not know. He knew what he was like when he was drunk maybe ten years ago, but he had no idea now. Phil had changed and so had he, no matter how many times PJ seemed to insinuate otherwise in phone calls.

"Well, it doesn't matter, because they don't have my number."

"Well, how else would he have gotten the goddamn number?" Louise shouted.

"I don't know! He's the professional stalker! Just call him and tell him to stop, okay?" Phil said. God, he was tired. He hadn't even noticed until now.

"You were the one who was so concerned about it one minute ago!" Louise snapped.

Yeah, well, that was before you mentioned Dan fucking Howell.

"Just call him, okay! I'll DM you his number," Phil said, and hung up. He closed his eyes and rubbed his hand against his forehead. Fucking Louise. It was too damn early to think about his ex-boyfriend. Or whatever he was to him. Were they even formally dating? They loved each other, sure, but they were far too busy hiding from the press to even think about it at the time.

Current Dan looked like he was living the dream. Spotlight on him, playing the piano and singing sadly into the microphone. He had always had the ability to look melancholy while remaining well-liked by all. He had changed; he had changed a lot. He really had embraced the curly hair like Phil always told him he should, and he looked a lot more mature as well. He shouldn't have been surprised - it had been a decade or so since they last talked - but still, he was so taken aback. Whenever he thought of him, he still thought of that young kid he met in Manchester, with meticulously flat-ironed hair and small giggles. Now he was probably taller than him. Crazy to think.

His phone buzzed. He quickly glanced at it. Louise had messaged him, saying she had tracked this kid down and would be in their office the next day. He didn't even care anymore. All of his secrets were out there already - if not confirmed, they were highly speculated among the community.

And they were right. Whatever they thought about him was probably right. If all the evidence showed that he fucked a twink in 2009, then he probably did fuck a twink in 2009. He didn't feel like he had to go out there and say it explicitly.

He could understand their curiosity, though. The human race naturally craved the confirmation of suspected knowledge. Phil suspected that Dan was still single, but it still comforted him to know for certain due to the universal love of knowing for sure. 

Not that Dan was unhappy. Dan Howell was doing well in his band with Chris and this other member, Anthony, it seemed. He had opened up about his mental health a few years back, and he was in a much better place than he was ten years ago. 

That whole day, Phil listened to Dan Howell. He listened to his voice, and it really hit him that Dan Howell was an amazing vocalist. He could be dreary, grief-stricken, raunchy, wistful, euphoric - and Phil believed every word. Dan’s poetry took him back, way back, to when times were more simple, and suddenly he was there, in his arms, in a bar in the city, dancing to the music like they would be forever. And they did. They really believed they would last, until they crashed and broke.

But that was life, wasn’t it? At least, Dan believed so. To others, his words seemed nonsensical, but to Phil, it made perfect sense. It was like a message, a code which only they understood and Phil had never yearned to be young and naïve again, truly believing in a future where he would be happy. For a while, if he closed his eyes, he was sitting on the sofa with Dan's hand holding his, and they were in love and they were where they belonged.

But then he stopped singing, and Phil was back where he was before. Alone. And more out of place than ever before.


End file.
